


don't come after me

by greatwonfidence



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Creepy Phone Business, Horror, M/M, Stalking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatwonfidence/pseuds/greatwonfidence
Summary: Ryan realizes that Shane has a stalker. Shane disagrees.





	don't come after me

Ryan is tired of hearing people say that senior year is the greatest year of your life. If this is how the start of the best year he’ll ever experience is shaping up, he wants a goddamn refund.

Well, okay. It’s only October. But he’s already received a failing test grade in Physics. Despite the school approving his request to form an Unsolved Mysteries club, only three other people joined, dashing his admittedly high expectations. And above all else, a summer apart hadn’t lessened his crush on his best friend like he’d hoped.

He’s painfully reminded of this when he gets to his locker and Shane is there, waiting for him, in his stupidly adorable collared shirt. His face lights up when their eyes meet.

“Ryan! Just the guy!”

Ryan nods in greeting and starts entering his combination. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I got this really weird text this morning that I wanted to show you.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and swipes until he finds it. Ryan peeks from around his locker door and takes Shane’s phone to get a better look.  

> **Unknown Number**
> 
> _GOOD MORNING, BEAUTIFUL. THE DAY IS YOURS, AND MINE AS WELL._ [6:42am]

“Huh.” Ryan hands it back and resumes rummaging for the right notebook.

“Funny, right? I think it’s a wrong number.”

“Did you reply?” Shane shakes his head. “You monster. They’re waiting for their beloved to respond.”

Shane barks a laugh. “Maybe! I’ll leave them hanging a little while longer. Keep ‘em wanting.” He winks and Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Ready for calc?” He closes the locker.

“Nope! Let’s go.”

 

At lunch, Shane asks for help composing a response. He wants to mess with the texter, but Zach insists he just be truthful. Steven suggests a joking response followed immediately by a just-kidding. Ryan just shrugs and tells him not to be too mean.

“Does this satisfy everyone?” Shane asks, changing his tone to indicate the text. “Hey, I don’t have your number in my phone, so I think this wasn’t meant for me. Unless it was meant for me, in which case, hey, the day certainly is ours. Winky face.” He looks around, hoping for approval.

“Adequate.” Zach nods. Steven gives a thumbs up and redirects his attention to his sandwich. Shane looks directly at Ryan, and it takes him a second to realize he wants his opinion, too.

“Very good, Shane.”

Shane smiles and hits send. Conversation turns back to the usual complaints about homework and parents and responsibilities. Ryan tries not to think about his own looming SAT date. It’s disheartening enough reading the required scores for the colleges he’s applying to - the idea of actually achieving said scores feels entirely out of reach.

“You’re the smartest out of all of us,” Steven tells him when he says it out loud. He punctuates it with a reassuring pat on the back. “You’ll get in wherever you apply, no joke.”

“Thanks.” Ryan senses the lunch period is about to reach its end and stands with his tray. As if on cue, the bell goes off. He points upward, inviting his friends to be impressed with his timing, but none of them react. Not even Shane - he’s extremely occupied by his phone. Ryan plays it off and everyone disperses to their next class.

He tries to stay awake in Physics. Really, he does. He’s about to fall asleep regardless, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. He looks around to check if he’s drawn any attention in the silent room, but no one is looking in his direction. He draws it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s from Shane. 

> **shane**
> 
> _I probably shouldn’t have replied to them, haha._ (IMAGE ATTACHED) [1:17pm]

Ryan taps the image. It’s a screenshot of the text conversation between Shane and the stranger, and the development makes his stomach lurch. 

> **Unknown Number**
> 
> _IS THIS SHANE MADEJ._ [11:56am]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _Yes? [12:01pm]_
> 
> **Unknown Number**
> 
> _THIS IS THE RIGHT NUMBER. ENJOY YOUR LUNCH._ [12:05pm]

He closes the image, repressing a shudder. Shane is typing. 

> **shane**
> 
> _Really weird! You can talk about this in your unsolved club ;)_ [1:18pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _shut up lol. that is really weird, you should block them_ [1:20pm]
> 
> **shane**
> 
> _I will if they send me something weirder. Until then they will remain: unblocked_ [1:24pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _i’m about to block you_ [1:25pm]

He snickers at himself, which does elicit a glare from his tablemate. He whispers an apology and looks back up at the board. Unsurprisingly, he’s entirely lost now.

He’ll pay attention tomorrow.

 

Ryan probably won’t tell Shane about it, but later that week he does bring it up at his Unsolved Mysteries club meeting. He’d almost forgotten he’d added the screenshot to the end of the Powerpoint on their regularly scheduled case.

“Oh, shit, yeah.” He sort of fumbles through the explanation because he neglected to prepare one beforehand, but he does explain it.

He has varying levels of satisfaction with the theories his clubmates provide.

First, TJ suggests it’s a friend with a new number playing a prank. Reasonable - the first message was off-putting to the point of it being comedic. It seemed like it was sent with the intent to get a laugh. But something about it feels wrong to Ryan, like the jig should’ve been up after Shane replied. The sender should’ve stepped forward at some point in the days that followed; it had now been four days since with no further communication. So possible, but probably not the solution.

Second, Devon proposes it’s a stalker that wants to “get with” Shane. She is immediately shut down for obvious reasons. She shrugs in response but doesn’t attempt to defend herself.

Third, Brent supplies the idea that it’s a _stranger_ playing a prank. A similar theory to TJ’s, but with the disconnect of an unfamiliar subject. He reminds everyone that phone numbers and names are public record and readily available online. This could be no more than a running refrigerator call taken to a creepier level. This one, while unsettling, seems the most likely.

Ryan thanks everyone for their contributions and dismisses the club. Brent hangs back to help him clean up the snack table.

“I have another theory,” he whispers, despite the fact that it’s only the two of them.

Ryan ties off the trash bag and squints in suspicion. “What is it?”

“My theory is… that you’re jealous.” Ryan opens his mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he holds up a hand defensively. “Hey! Hear me out. I think you’re a little threatened-“

“Threatened!”

“-by someone else having Shane’s attention.” Brent raises his eyebrows and nods, as if his word were gospel.

“No.” Ryan shakes his head. “Good theory, though.”

“Are you gonna ask him to homecoming?”

“I’m not going to the dance.” He skirts the question.

“Nah, the game.”

“Eh.” Ryan waves his hand noncommittally. “I don’t think he’s particularly into sports.”

Brent accepts the excuse, but assures him with a hand gesture that he’s keeping an eye on the two. Ryan turns the lights off as they leave the club room.

 

> **You**
> 
> _did your creep say anything yet?_ [8:21pm]
> 
> **shane**
> 
> _Got another “GOOD MORNING.” today, but that’s it. Uncreative and disappointing._ [8:23pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _weird. i talked about it at unsolved club and devon thinks you have a secret admirer lol. everyone else thinks it’s just a prank_ [8:27pm]
> 
> **shane**
> 
> _As we all know, my ideal man has no identity, so this has turned out perfectly for me!_ [8:31pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _lol_ [8:45pm]

 

Ryan doesn’t want to ask Shane to update him every time the stranger texts him in case he doesn’t appreciate the meddling, so he just asks every now and then and hopes Shane will get the hint that he’s very invested. Unfortunately, Shane doesn’t seem to want to talk about it much. Ryan instead busies himself with SAT preparation, surprisingly successfully. He gets so deep into his studying that the homecoming game slips his mind right up until the day before.

Shit. Shit, shit. He thinks he’ll probably need at least a full business day to convince his best friend to give up a whole Friday night to watch a sport he doesn’t care about. He has other friends he can go with, of course, but everything’s more fun with his best friend.

Ugh, he hates the way he sounds. He closes his locker just in time to see Shane waltzing down the hall towards him, books in hand and headphones on. The universe likes him a little bit, it seems, to throw him a bone like this.

Ryan reaches out and grabs Shane’s shoulder. His friend jerks back, spinning around in surprise.

“Oh, you.” He laughs haltingly and pulls his headphones down around his neck. “Sorry. What’s going on?”

“My bad. Didn’t realize you were that in the zone.” Ryan stuffs his hands into his pockets to mask his fidgeting. “So, uh, homecoming is tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah.” Shane shifts on his feet. “You know, I’m not that big on dances.”

“Me either. But I’m going to see the game. The football game.” He knows what game it is. Ryan watches Shane’s face cycle through a handful of emotions, none of which are easily identifiable.

“Are you asking me to go with you?” he asks, face landing on something fairly neutral.

“It’s not as boring as you think it is, I swear.”

Shane laughs, and Ryan has hope. “If you say so. Yeah, I’ll go. Want me to drive?”

He knows Ryan doesn’t have a car. “Yes please.”

“Got it. See ya.” Shane waves his hand and walks off down the hallway. Ryan’s heart flutters in his chest. God, it’s not even a date.

 

* * *

 

He was kind of hoping it was at least a little bit a date. However, when he gets home and casually mentions it (yeah mom, scored a kinda-date, no big deal), his mother informs him that his brother will be tagging along.

Ryan doesn’t hate his brother; there’s just quite a bit of a maturity gap between thirteen and seventeen. He can easily spend hours hanging out with Jake one-on-one, but having him there while he’s trying to spend time with his friends might feel a little awkward. He tries to quietly tell her this and gets dismissed with the classic _you have to, I said so_.

He pulls out his phone to text Shane as a forewarning. It lights up with a received message from the man himself.

> **shane**
> 
> _Don’t forget to tell me what time to “scoop you,” as the teens say._ [5:06pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _you’re literally a teen you weirdo lol. it starts at 7. also sorry but my mom wants us to take jake too_ [5:07pm]
> 
> **shane**
> 
> _That’s fine, I like the little guy. Make sure he brings hot dog money!_ [5:11pm]

Ryan laughs. He only met Shane last year, but they had very quickly integrated themselves into each other’s lives. Both are adored by the other’s parents, and Shane had taken a liking to Ryan’s brother. Moreso since his own little brother had passed away a few months after they got to know each other. Ryan didn’t know Will well, but he still felt the impact of his death and saw firsthand the toll it left on his family.

“Is that Shane?” Jake asks, snapping him out of his head. “Tell him I said hi!”

“We’ll see him tomorrow,” Mrs. Bergara chides. “Come help me make dinner, both of you.”

“Shane’s truck is cool,” Jake says. Their mother hums in agreement.

 

Shane’s truck _is_ cool. Ryan doesn’t get to ride in it much because he prefers biking to school, but in the colder weather, it’s nice to be in a real vehicle. They all wave to Mrs. Bergara as they leave the driveway.

Ryan sits back in the passenger seat and checks his email while Shane and Jake chat. Jake prattles on about his idea for the science fair, and Ryan can’t tell if Shane is feigning interest or if he really finds a vinegar and baking soda volcano to be as revolutionary as his _wow!s_ imply.

They get there ten minutes before the game starts and the stands are packed. Knowing how hard it’ll be to spot their other friends, Ryan just leads them to the first accommodating space he can find.

“We can look for them at the intermission,” Shane says. Ryan snorts.

“Intermission? You mean halftime.”

“Is it when they stop halfway through?” Ryan nods. “That’s a fuckin’- sorry, Jake. That’s an intermission, buddy.”

“Is there any other vocab you need help with? Do you know what it’s called when they score a point?”

“Touchdowns! I’m not an alien.”

They fall into easy conversation. Ryan groans about SAT prep and Shane tells him to just take it later like he is.

“Well, I’m applying for early action everywhere, so I need my scores ASAP.”

“Ahh, I forgot you were an overachiever for a minute there.” It’s an insult, but there’s no malice in his voice, just fondness. Ryan gives him a friendly smack on the arm regardless.

“When is halftime?” Jake asks. Ryan suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. He knew he’d get bored fast.

“Not for a while, it just started.” Shane leans over Ryan to talk to him. “Why, you hungry? Want to go find food?”

Jake nods, grinning excitedly. Ryan asks, “You don’t mind going with him?”

Shane shakes his head. “Of course not. Want me to grab you anything?”

Ryan declines the offer and watches them go, missing what was evidently a good play, if the eruption of cheering around him was anything to go by. He feels a vibration on the seat beside him and sees that Shane left his phone. Against his better judgment, he flips it over to see who it’s from.

> **Unknown Number**
> 
> _SEE YOU TONIGHT._ [7:28pm]

Ryan pulls up his own texts with Shane to make sure it’s the same unregistered contact. Once he confirms that, he can’t decide what he’s feeling. Annoyed? Worried? Jealous? Fucking Brent.

He’s meeting this guy? Or girl, who knows. Shane must, if he’s planning on seeing them tonight. Ryan drums his fingers against his knee. He knows Shane is well-liked and charming; it wouldn’t be unrealistic for him to have a date after this.But why didn’t he mention it? Did he not want his best friend to know?

Are they meeting here? Had Shane agreed to come a little too readily? Ryan looks around, like he’d be able to identify anybody in this crowd. There’s another whoop from the people around him, and he tries to focus on the game. Fuck, it’s cold.

Shane and Jake return a few minutes later, toting popcorn and hot dogs. Shane shakes the paperboard popcorn box at Ryan temptingly, but he turns it down.

“Are you cold, Ryan?” Shane asks. Ryan tries to deny it, but it’s painfully obvious. “Yeah, you’re shivering. Here, take my coat.”

“No, no, then you’ll be cold.”

“I’m from the midwest, baby, this is a cool spring for me.” Shane flashes a smile. Ryan doesn’t get the chance to forget that Shane moved here from Chicago - he’s reminded any time he complains about the cold. He begrudgingly accepts the denim jacket. It doesn’t offer much warmth, but on top of his thick sweatshirt, it does feel a little bit better.

Shane picks his phone up while Ryan dresses and squints at the screen, then tucks it away into his pocket.

“You’re not gonna reply?” Ryan asks before he can stop himself. So much for playing it cool.

“Nah. They’re just being weird again.” Shane shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, then abruptly points at the scoreboard, as if he’d just noticed its presence. “Oh! Hey! We’re winning.”

“Don’t talk with food- you’re so gross.” Ryan chuckles.

“Yeah, whatever.” Shane swallows audibly. “The person’s just trying to get on my nerves. I think it’s what your friend said - like they looked up my name and number to play a joke. Or! It’s a _really_ elaborate telemarketer.”

“A telemarketer? What are they selling?”

“I don’t know, but they’re playing the long con, and I kind of respect it.” Shane smiles warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that adorable way that Ryan wishes only he could get the chance to see.

“So you’re not meeting with them tonight?” He reaches for popcorn, his annoyance abated. Shane hands him the box.

“No. Definitely not. I’m with you tonight.” He turns back to the game and looks deceivingly like he might actually be enjoying himself.

What an odd occurrence that would be.

 

Their school reigns victorious in the end. Jake falls asleep against Ryan before the game ends, but his loving brother shakes him awake a few times so they can all cheer together. They never meet up with their friends. Shane drives them back home after the game so they can get Jake to bed.

“Hey, you wanna go to the twenty-four hour diner?” Shane asks as soon as they reach the driveway. Ryan is a bit taken aback.

“Like, now?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Ah… I want to, but the SAT is in the morning.” Ryan winces, genuinely apologetic. “Rain check?”

“Rain check. Yeah.” Shane sounds disappointed and it bites at his friend’s heart. He turns around to look at a very sleepy Jake. “See you later, buddy.”

He mumbles in response as Ryan drags him out of the truck. He doesn’t realize until he collapses onto his bed that he’s still wearing Shane’s coat.

 

* * *

 

Ryan does well on the SAT. He thinks so, at least - he won’t get the score back for a few weeks, but he’s feeling pretty confident.

Shane makes good on his rain check promise. He comes by about a week later to pick Ryan up and bring him to the diner. Ryan is well aware that they’re going to do homework, so he doesn’t refer to it as a date at any point, but his brother still pokes fun at him for the clear effort in the way he’s dressed - a nice clean button-up and, for once, something other than basketball shorts.

“Leave me alone, Jake,” Ryan groans as he puts on his coat. He zips it as aggressively as possible.

“Do you think he dressed up too? Are you gonna fix your hair?”

“Nothing’s wrong with my-“

The doorbell rings just a moment later. Ryan sighs and answers it. He can’t tell if Shane dressed up, with his gray pants and blue sweater - he just looks that nice all the time. Despite wanting to leave right away, he reluctantly allows Shane time to say hello and goodbye to Jake. And then his mom comes home from work, so they chat with her for a few. Shane jokingly assures her he’ll have her son home at a respectable time, and she laughs.

“Your mom liked that one,” Shane says once they’re both in the truck.

“Thank God _someone_ thinks you’re funny.” Ryan retorts, but he is grateful that she likes Shane. And he’s grateful for Shane’s warm truck, and for his music taste, and the way he taps his fingers against the wheel and hums along to the songs. He tries to will his thoughts in a less romantic direction, but his mind is stronger than he thinks, and it’s hard to focus on anything else.

 

They both order burgers. Shane expresses an inability to choose between waffle fries and shoestring, and Ryan proposes they each order one type and share. He doesn’t have time to reflect on the fact that that might be a weird thing for friends to do, because Shane very quickly points at him and calls him a genius for it.

Ryan takes bites between solving problems. He looks up after five and sees Shane just staring blankly at his own textbook. It’s not even turned to the right page, he notes.

“You alright?” he asks. Shane blinks in surprise.

“Mm? Oh, yeah.” He picks up his mostly untouched burger and takes a bite, chewing slowly.

“I got the first five done. On, uh, page sixty.”

“Okay, cool.” Shane swallows and turns his textbook page. “I don't know if I'm physically capable of passing calc at this point."

Ryan chuckles. “You’ll be fine. You just have to, y’know, do the work. Focus in class and whatnot.”

“Don’t act like you focus in class.” Shane flicks a fry at him. “I see you sitting there, writing in your little notebook.”

“It’s called taking notes!”

“Not when it’s notes for your mystery club!”

“You got me there.” He basks in the glow of Shane’s giggles. He watches his friend start on a problem. His eyebrows furrow and he bites the end of his pen while he struggles to remember the formula.

It’s silent for a few, and then Shane asks him, “Where are you trying to go?”

“Uhh.” Ryan has to think. “I mean, I’m applying all over the place. USC. NYU. I’ll get in somewhere, you know?”

“NYU?” Shane puts the pen all the way down to emphasize his interest. “All the way to the east coast?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Weren’t you thinking of going back to Chicago?”

Shane looks pensive for a moment. Ryan knows his friend doesn’t really love California weather, but he can’t let go of the fantasy that he and Shane will go to the same college so they can stay by each other’s sides.

“Maybe. Things can change,” is all Shane says on the matter. “But to go to college at all, I’m gonna need Mr. Jensen to give me a break here. I’m doing my best! It’s just hard!”

“Are you doing your best?” Ryan teases. Shane picks up a waffle fry to throw at him this time. “Hey! Stop wasting those.”

“Pardon me.” Shane grins, placing it back onto the plate. He picks up his pen with intent to return to his homework, but then there’s a buzzing on the table. He glances at his phone and freezes suddenly. Ryan is about to verbalize his confusion, but when he sees the caller ID for himself, he thinks the fear is appropriate.

It’s the stranger.

“Why are they calling?” Ryan asks.

“I don’t know, they’ve never called before. Maybe I’ll recognize the voice.” Shane explains, accepting the call. “Hello?”

Ryan can’t hear the caller, so he just watches his friend’s face. Shane’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he slides closer to the window, looking out. Ryan’s eyes flick back and forth between Shane and the parking lot. Every car is parked and off; if any were idle, they’d see steam in the cool night.

Shane hangs up.

“What did they say?”

“He said ‘I’m outside,’ and then just. Breathed for a while. I didn’t know what to…” His gaze lingers on the window again, then tears away to look back at his textbook. “It’s definitely a man. I don’t know who. Just a guy messing with me.” His phone buzzes again.

Ryan takes it before Shane can look at it.

“Oh, God,” he whispers, putting it back down. “Jesus _Christ_ , dude.”

It’s a photo of the outside of the diner. Shane has a similar reaction, a quick cycling of shock and fear. He shakes his head and shoves the phone into his pocket.

“He’s not here,” he says. “It’s- it’s unrealistic. He got the photo from somewhere else, took it sometime else. He had to have.”

Ryan is heavily inclined to disagree, but he doesn’t want to make Shane feel any more afraid, so he errs on the side of reassuring instead.

“Nothing to worry about,” he lies. Shane nods and refocuses on the homework, willing it into possibility.

They work in silence for a while. Ryan keeps catching Shane glancing out the window. He wants to suggest a solution to him, propose they call the police, his mother, anyone; but he can tell Shane would rather just not talk about it, so he doesn’t.

Miraculously, the discomforting quiet is what they need to get their work done. They check their work against each others’ and only argue about one of the word problems, because they can’t agree on which formula they’re supposed to use.

The argument breaks the tension, though, and they end up laughing with each other once again. Having done it his way, Ryan puts his textbook and papers away in his backpack. Shane chews his lip and peers outside once again. Ryan follows his gaze and notes that a few cars have disappeared in the time since the call.

“Do you wanna stay a little longer?” he asks. Shane hesitates, then nods morosely. He then slaps his palms on the table and grins, like he’s just been graced with a brilliant idea.

“Let’s get dessert!”

Ryan laughs. “Sure, yeah.”

They get two ice creams, one pistachio and the other black cherry. Ryan strangely finds himself not caring when Shane sticks his own spoon into Ryan’s ice cream.

“Black cherry’s weird,” he says, returning to his own food.

“I’m not gonna try your fuckin’… green nut cream.”

“I’m going to need for you to never call it that again, first of all.” Shane struggles to get the sentence out before he devolves into wheezing. “Sec- second, it’s delicious.”

“Whatever you say, nut cream.”

He’s grateful to be seeing Shane so cheerful again. After they finish their desserts, Shane regains his unaffected composure. He seems to deem the amount of cars in the lot to be safe and says they can head out. He brings Ryan home, and they text a little afterward, when Ryan’s laying in bed fighting the desire to sleep.

> **shane**
> 
> _Maybe we should go to one of Mr. Jensen’s after school study sessions._ [11:06pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _i get enough of him in class. no thank u_ [11:09pm]
> 
> **shane**
> 
> _Haha yeah. I do want to pass though. Soft maybe?_ [11:11pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _ehh, sure. soft maybe._ [11:14pm]
> 
> **shane**
> 
> _Sounds good. Good night!_ [11:19pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _night._ [11:24pm]

 

* * *

  

> **shane**
> 
> _Did you check your grade on the website?_ [3:36pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _no not yet checkin rn_ [3:37pm]
> 
> **shane**
> 
> _72 on the calc test, baby!!! What’d you get?_ [3:39pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _that’s great! I scored a little higher… 95_ [3:44pm]
> 
> **shane**
> 
> _Fuck you._ [3:52pm]

 

Winter break is as relieving as it is cold.

Ryan is glad that the two study sessions Shane went to without him benefited him. Having submitted all of his applications weeks ago, he all but waits by the mailbox, knowing his decision letter for the University of Southern California will be here any day. Realistically, it’s going to be fine, because he applied to so many places and he’s maintained As and Bs; he won’t be without options. Regardless, it’s stressful when you don’t know for sure.

But on Christmas day, his worries are alleviated when his mother hands him a thick envelope with a bow on it. The college’s emblem is printed on the outside, and the weight of it tells him it’s definitely not a rejection.

“Oh my God!” He could cry, but he doesn’t want his family to see that. “When did this come in?”

“A few days ago.” Mrs. Bergara winces. “Sorry, I know you were anxious, but I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

He forgives her and marks it with a tight hug. He takes it into his room later that evening and tears into it, perusing all of the pamphlets inside. He’ll have to go through the list of majors later and check off what interests him. It occurs to him that he should tell Shane, so he finds his phone underneath papers on his desk and pulls up his contact to call him.

He gets a dial tone in response, and a robotic voice telling him that the number is no longer in service. Huh. Strange. He assumes something is wrong with Shane’s phone and he’ll get a call back later.

 

He doesn’t get a call back later, and all outreach has resulted in the same error message. He’s getting bored without his best friend, so before long he’s pedaling down the street on his bike to Shane’s house. The cold air stings him for all of the three miles, even through his padded coat and brand-new hat.

Ryan reaches Shane’s front steps just as the thought occurs to him that maybe Shane hasn’t reached out to him for a reason. He tries to think if they’d gotten into an argument of any sort lately, but he doesn’t think he’s done anything that would warrant a cold shoulder. He shakes his head to clear it and knocks on the door.

Shane answers. He looks terrible, and that’s coming from Ryan. His hair is unbrushed, he has dark circles under his eyes, and- holy shit.

“Are those sweatpants?” Ryan asks.

“Um.” Shane looks down, as if to check. “Hello to you, too.”

“Sorry, I- sorry.” Ryan takes his hat off. “Hi. You just look a little…”

“I know.” Shane laughs quietly, embarrassed. “I haven’t been sleeping much. Uh- do you want to come in?”

Ryan glances at the driveway and notes the three present cars. “I don’t wanna intrude on a family thing-“

“It’s just my big brother visiting.” Shane smiles warmly. “Come in, stay for dinner. My parents miss you.”

The Madejs always make Ryan feel welcomed. He’s never met Shane’s older brother, but the man grabs him for a hug as soon as they lock eyes and says something about hearing about him. The thought of Shane discussing him with family members makes him blush, but he can easily pass his red face off as a result of the weather.

“Hi Ryan!” Mrs. Madej greets him with a kind shoulder squeeze. “How was your Christmas?”

“Very good, thank you.” His eyes linger on family photos on the wall behind her - the parents' wedding, the kids at a waterpark - and most recently, their summer vacation in Iceland. “How was yours?”

“Oh, I’m sure Shane told you all about it,” she says, grinning. “Got him that new phone he’s been asking for.”

“Ohh.” That explains a bit.

“Wanna come upstairs?” Shane asks, hand resting against Ryan’s back. He nods and follows him up to his room.

Ryan hasn’t been here in a while. Shane’s room is small; pretty much just a desk, dresser, and bed. Some movie posters litter the blue wall. It’s a comfortable place; he should invite himself over more often.

“So, I got a new phone and changed my number,” Shane says, rubbing his own arm in an almost defensive position. “I forgot to write down my contacts, so I didn’t have yours to text you. Sorry.”

“That’s fine, dude.” Ryan holds back the _I was just worried is all_ that his heart wants him to say, electing instead to open up Shane’s contact so he can update it.

“There you go.”

“Is it because of the diner photo?” Ryan keeps his voice low. Even with the closed door, he’s unsure if anyone could pass by and hear.

Shane tenses visibly. He runs his fingers through his hair. “Sort of. There was… another photo.” He gestures toward his bed, and he and Ryan go and sit down. “It was of me. Leaving the school. Like, an actual photo with me in it, getting into my car.”

Ryan's eyebrows fly up in shock. “Please tell me you made a police report.”

Shane winces and shakes his head, slowly. “I didn’t. I don’t want to stress my parents out any more than they already are. You know, with it being Christmastime.”

Ryan knows what he means. It’s their first holiday season without Will. He doesn’t want to chastise; Shane is just trying to be considerate of his family, and he’s grieving too. But at the same time, he might be in real danger.

“I still think you should go to the police,” he says. “I don’t think you even have to tell your parents.”

“I’m a minor. They’d call them.” Shane sighs and his head falls into his hands. Ryan understands then that Shane has thought about this for a long time. He brings up a hand to rub his back comfortingly.

His mind wanders. He thinks about the funeral last March. He thinks about Shane crying into his sleeve, trying to hide it, like anyone would ever judge him for mourning his baby brother. He thinks about holding Shane’s hand and telling him it wasn’t his fault, because it certainly wasn’t, but getting a Madej to listen to reason was never an easy task.

Mrs. Madej calls them down for dinner, and Shane asks Ryan to promise not to call the police. He reluctantly agrees.

At least the spaghetti is good. And he gets to receive a whole round of congratulations for getting into his first choice school, so there’s another bonus.

 

* * *

 

The next few months go by fairly quickly. Shane tells Ryan he’s already gotten into college, there’s no need for him to be studying, but Ryan informs him that that isn’t even remotely how school works, so they continue to study and do their calculus homework together. Ryan wishes they’d ended up with more classes together, just to have an excuse to spend more time with him.

He does get him to concede on his Unsolved Mysteries club, however - Shane makes a guest appearance at a couple of meetings. Even if all he does is rile up the other members by providing theories about aliens and dismissing all suggestions of paranormal interference, it’s nice to have him there, indulging in his interests with him.

A new weight on his shoulders: prom is rapidly approaching. Everyone knows it. He can’t get away from the talk - whispers about going dress shopping, who’s going to ask who, what the theme will be. He’d love to ask Shane - even if his romantic feelings are unrequited, people go as friends all the time. It wouldn’t be a big deal, unless it was a big deal, and Shane was off-put or even _upset_ that Ryan asked him. And then it would be a big deal, he guesses.

He asks Brent and Steven for advice, but everyone has grandiose promposals on the mind, and Ryan already knows Shane wouldn’t want anything public.

“Honestly, you could just text him like, ‘sup, dude. Prom?’ and he’d say yes,” Brent jokes.

“I don’t think it’s anywhere near that easy, but thank you for your input.” Ryan rolls his eyes, regretting bearing his heart to his friends.

“No, but for real.” Steven points at him. “You two are great together. Date-date or just regular date, you’ll have a fun night. Look at it that way. Just a fun night with your bro.”

A fun night that hopefully involves kissing and maybe a little bit more.

“You’re right,” Ryan says, even though he isn’t.

 

Ryan decides he is going to ask Shane to prom.

It’s too convenient not to. If Shane says no, well, that’s that. But if he says yes, then that’s some indication that he likes Ryan too. What’s a more romantic first kiss than during the slow dance at prom?

There are probably more romantic first kisses to be had, but Ryan is a sappy teenager, so he’s going with the prom kiss.

He daydreams about it in class and persists after the bell rings. How should he ask? Definitely not through a text, Brent is crazy. Not a call, either, it has to be in person. Even if Shane would appreciate a big gesture, Ryan would find some way to screw it up. Something simple. Just asking him in person.

Steven catches him in the hall with a hard clap on the shoulder, jarring him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Ryaaaan.” His tone implies he’s about to tease Ryan for something.

“Hello, Steven. What’s the shit-eating grin for?” Steven slides his arm around Ryan’s shoulders.

“Oh, nothin’. Just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.”

Ryan laughs and waves off the arm. “For what, exactly?”

“When you said you were gonna ask Shane to prom, I didn’t think you’d really do it. I’m proud of you for-“

“Hang on, hang on.” Ryan stops walking entirely, spinning to face his friend. “What are you talking about?”

Steven stares at him like he has two heads. “The note on his locker.”

Ryan knows where Shane’s locker is and navigates to it at a speed that just barely constitutes running. He can spot it from the end of the hallway; there’s a bright pink piece of paper taped to it.

Oh shit.

Steven’s not following him anymore. He swallows nervously, mind torn between coming up with an excuse to give him later for bolting and dealing with the emotions regarding someone else asking Shane to prom before he had the chance.

Has he seen it yet? He’d probably have removed it. He touches the edge of the paper gingerly, lifting it to read both sides.

The front reads: **SHANE <3**

The back reads: **PLEASE GO TO PROM WITH ME.**

No name. There’s… He kind of wants to laugh. They really didn’t write their name. How did they forget that? How is Shane supposed to know who-

“Ryan?”

Oh, good. He squeaks and spins around, ripping the paper off in the process. He keeps his hands behind his back.

“Hey, Shane.” He takes a singular step to the right so his friend has access to his locker. He just keeps staring at Ryan quizzically.

“What are you doing?” His eyes flit downward and land on bright pink. “What’s that?”

“Oh, uhh,” Ryan stammers. “That’s, um.”

He can’t think of a reasonable out, so he just hands the paper over. Before he can explain that he just saw it taped to the locker, Shane’s face lights up, to Ryan’s immediate surprise.

“This is from you?” Shane asks, reading the back.

“Um.”

“I was actually… I was going to ask you later today.” Shane flushes. Ryan’s heart stops beating and his brain stops working.

“Oh, wow.”

Shane chuckles. He folds the paper and slips it into his backpack. “So that’s a clear yes.”

“Hard yes,” Ryan says, if only just to say something. Shane laughs.

“Yes. Hard yes.”

It’s too easy to just keep his mouth shut, so Ryan doesn’t tell Shane the note wasn’t from him. It might be upsetting to whoever _did_ put it there, getting radio silence in response, but well… frankly, he’s too happy to care.

 

He asks Shane over another homework session if he has a tux already, and after getting made fun of for suggesting a seventeen year old might own a tux, proposes that they go shopping for rentals together.

“So, you know, we can get matching pocket squares or whatever.”

“I love the way you think.” Shane grins. “Yeah. How’s this weekend?”

“Great.” Ryan looks back down at his calc textbook, but the numbers just sort of dance in front of his eyes and don’t attempt to mean anything, which he doesn’t appreciate. “We might have to go to a Jensen study session for this chapter, buddy, I don’t think it’s happening for me.”

“A Jensen study session,” Shane repeats. “A study sension. A Jensen sensen.”

“You’re clocking out too, huh?”

“I’ve been clocked out for most of my life.” Shane closes his textbook.

 

Ryan assures his mother he doesn’t need her help picking out a tux, that he and Shane will do fine on their own. He abates her by promising to send photos.

They bicker a little bit about colors. Shane insists they should get something that pops, something bright, since their jackets and pants are plain black. Ryan generally shies away from bold colors, but it doesn’t seem like Shane would be willing to concede to a neutral tone, like a soft pink or a tan.

Eventually Shane lifts up a baby blue tie and Ryan falls in love.

“Is it muted enough for you, Mr. Art School?” Shane teases.

“Only if you can come up with a joke that’s at least marginally better than that,” Ryan snickers. Shane shrugs, promising nothing.

They take their clothes into different dressing rooms, of course, but they’re right next to each other. Ryan can hear Shane shuffling around in his own little cubicle.

“How’s it going in there?” he asks aloud. He shimmies into one of the pairs of dress pants he’d picked out, not entirely loving this one’s cut.

“Oh, excellent. I’m too tall for all of these pants, I think.”

Ryan knows it’s not funny, but he can’t help chuckling at his friend’s predicament. “I’ll wear shorter pants too. We can rock the ankles-out look together.”

“That might not be horrible,” Shane mumbles. His phone buzzes, and all sound of movement halts. “Hello?”

Ryan has a brief moment of fear resurfacing. Surely it’s not the stalker. It’s been some time since Shane changed his number. There’s no way he’s still bothering him. It has to just be his father calling or something.

Shane resumes moving, so Ryan guesses the call has ended. Tentatively, he asks, “Who was that?”

“Uh, telemarketer. Hey, the jacket fits! The jacket is a winner.”

Ryan doesn’t press for more information. After a few, they’re both finally ready to show each other. They have fun with it, keeping their doors locked until they finish a countdown, then they step out, striking poses. Ryan laughs at the fact that both of them have their ties just hanging around their collars, undone.

“You look great!” Shane says, elated his color choice works for both of them. “The ankles-out look really does work for you. I didn’t think it would.”

“I’m full of surprises. It looks good on you, too.”

“Nah, I think it just kind of accentuates how weirdly tall I am,” Shane says, tone a little bashful. He rubs the back of his neck, looking at himself in the mirror. It gives Ryan a great idea.

“Step over here, let’s get my mom’s opinion.” He opens the camera app on his phone and Shane does as he’s told.

Ryan tries not to think about Shane’s ruffled hair, or the fact that he’s wearing glasses today instead of contacts, or his hand resting on the small of his back.

He snaps the photo, but before Shane goes to undress, Ryan tells him, “As your prom date, I do think you look fantastic.”

Their eyes are locked onto one another. If Ryan didn’t know any better, he’d think Shane was blushing as hard as he is. He only lets his gaze drift down to Shane’s lips because Shane does it to him first.

But this is a weird, sort-of-clean formalwear store dressing room, and Ryan doesn’t think he really wants to have his first kiss here, so he pulls away and heads into his own cubicle before the situation can escalate. Shane follows suit, and Ryan can hear the quiet chuckle under his breath.

Insufferable. He’s totally in love.

Mrs. Bergara loves the pictures.

 

* * *

 

“It’s a night to remember, isn’t it?” Shane asks, peering at his phone while Ryan does up his tie for him. Ryan can hear the Snapchat videos and, if pressed, could probably identify the voices of the people shouting gleefully in them.

He nods. “That’s what people call prom, yes.”

“So why do people try to… not remember it?” He tucks it away into his pocket. “Eugene was doing a whole ‘pregame’ thing. You’re gonna go to a school function drunk?”

“People do that. I mean, they’re not gonna, like, breathalyze people when they go in.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ryan laughs at the thought. “Alright sir, hand me your ticket, okay now blow into this real quick?”

Shane tuts. “Point-zero-three! Sorry bucko, you’re outta here!”

It’s nice, Ryan thinks. Things have been rough for both of them lately, with keeping their grades up and college applications and trying to forget about the unsavory events of the past few months. Shane hasn’t showed him any messages or expressed any worry about it for a while, so he doesn’t bring it up. All he wants is to have a nice night where all fears are forgotten about just long enough to dance for a while.

“Ready, boys?” Mrs. Bergara calls up the stairs.

“Coming,” Ryan replies, fiddling with his own tie. “I don’t know why I can tie it for other people but not on myself.”

“Selective stupidity,” Shane suggests, ducking and laughing when Ryan makes to smack him. He chases his friend downstairs, running like children. They get scolded, of course.

Mrs. Bergara runs through the list of cautions any parent gives; no drinking, no drugs, call me if you’re not coming home, etc. Ryan nods and tunes out because he’s heard it a thousand times, but he can’t help snickering at the way Shane looks at her intently, like he’s really listening. Ryan bites his tongue when she makes them pose for too many photos, just lets out a sigh of relief when they’re finally in the truck.

“Your mom is great.” Shane says.

“You just like that she makes fun of me with you.”

“That’s probably it, yeah.”

 

The prom is cinema-themed; “A Night At The Movies,” which is pretty tacky as far as prom themes go. But there’s a red carpet in the hallway leading to the gymnasium, and a photo booth well-stocked with props, so there are a few merits.

They chat a bit, waiting for more of their friends to arrive. When Eugene’s party ends and his group strolls in, Steven drags Shane and Ryan into the photo booth, declaring that they have to do the best Charlie’s Angels recreation.

“Everybody’s gonna be doing this,” Ryan says as he rotates Shane’s hips for him to get the pose right. He’s warm and allows Ryan to move him however he likes without hesitation, which puts inconvenient images into his head.

“I know, but we’re gonna be _the best._ ” Steven yells for the photographer to take the picture. Ryan wonders if he’s really drunk enough to not realize there’s a button they have to press themselves.

It prints a strip of three photos taken a few seconds apart. Shane carefully tears in the white space so they can each keep one. He sends Steven off with one and shows the other two to his date.

“Which one do you want?” he asks. Ryan looks at them critically, searching for differences. They tried to give the camera their best sultry gazes, but in the second, Shane’s face cracks a hint of a smile. It’s too cute for Ryan to handle.

“This one,” he chooses, tucking it into his pocket carefully. Shane smiles and puts his own away.

“Let’s go find some respectfully non-spiked punch.”

“Somebody should probably get on that.” Ryan glances in the direction of Keith and Zach, who are sitting nearby and all hands on each others’ faces, giggling into each others’ mouths. “Or… maybe there’s enough alcohol here.”

Shane laughs, a beautiful sound that makes his heart thrum.

 

They dance to the overbearing pop music the DJ plays. Despite the confidence exuding from every moving body in the gym, nobody really knows how to dance. But it’s the feeling of solidarity that gives the room the air of comfort, a last hurrah before finals and a chance to have a great time with people you’ve grown up with and may not see again after graduation.

Ryan feels a familiar hand on his shoulder and turns to see his date, standing very close to him to ensure he’s heard.

“I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” he says into his ear. He’s clenching his lit phone in one hand and pointing in the direction of the bathroom with the other. Ryan yells back an “okay” and goes back to dancing.

After that song ends, Ryan finds Brent at his table and takes the seat next to him.

“Having a wild time, Bergara?”

“I’m always goin’ wild.” Ryan chugs a cup of water that wasn’t his and silently thanks the Lord it was indeed just water. Brent laughs.

“Hey, whatever happened with Shane’s stalker situation?” he asks out of the blue. Ryan is taken aback; it had been so long since Ryan had last spoke of it to anyone, he assumed it was forgotten about.

“Oh, I guess it’s over? He stopped getting the messages.” He shrugs.

“Oh, good! That’s great. I just wondered cause you stopped mentioning it.” Brent takes a sip of water. “Also great: you finally getting the balls to ask your boy to prom.”

Ryan feels another pang of guilt and he knows he can’t lie about it anymore. “Actually, kinda funny story about that.” He glances around to make sure Shane isn’t back from the bathroom yet. “I was going to, definitely, but someone else wrote him a note first. They didn’t write their name, and I was there when he saw it, so he just… assumed it was me. I didn’t say anything.”

“No way!” Brent’s eyes are almost as wide as his grin. “Ryan! You took credit for someone else’s promposal!”

“He said he was planning to ask me anyway! So he’d have had to turn down whoever the other person was. I saved them the rejection.” He thinks for a second, then adds, “I’m a hero, you know.”

Brent doesn’t hear the joke, lost in his own train of thought. “Wait. What if the note was from… the stalker?”

Ryan’s heart twists. “That’s not funny. How would he even get into the school?”

“Maybe he goes here. Or he’s just really good.” Brent shrugs. Ryan rolls his eyes, deciding whether or not to chastise him for joking about such a serious matter.

A slow song starts behind them. The single students start to migrate off the floor as couples pair up. Ryan notes that now Shane has been in the bathroom for a while.

“I’m gonna make sure he’s not like, puking or something.” Ryan excuses himself. Brent waves a casual goodbye.

Once the gymnasium doors close behind him and the music dissipates into the vacuum, he barely recognizes the space as his school. The place he’s attended for four years now, the place he’ll leave behind in a couple of months forever.

No time. Reminisce later. Unbidden by volunteer chaperones, he jogs down the hall, his shoes clicking with each step. He finds the boy’s bathroom easily and pushes his way in.

It’s empty. All three stall doors are ajar, and no one is smoking at the sinks like a regular school day. The one thing that does stand out is a familiar-looking phone sitting inside the sink.

His stomach drops. No. He picks it up and checks the home screen.

Of course it’s a picture of them as the background. It’s Shane’s phone. Ryan is struggling to breathe as he unlocks it, thankful there’s no passcode. He opens the messages. Everything happens in slow motion. 

> **Unknown Number**
> 
> _YOU LOOK SO GOOD TONIGHT. I’LL MEET YOU FOR A DANCE IN THE KENNEDY WOODS._ [8:38pm]
> 
> _[Call From Unknown Number:_ 8:45pm-8:46pm]
> 
> **Unknown Number**
> 
> _REMEMBER NO COPS OR HE DIES. DITCH YOUR PHONE TOO._ [8:46pm]
> 
> **You**
> 
> _I’m coming now_ [8:47pm]

Ryan checks the time. 8:55. Oh God. Oh God. Who dies? Fuck.

He pockets Shane’s phone and uses his own to text Brent frantically as he runs out of the bathroom.

> **You**
> 
> _if you dont hear frm me in 15 mins call 911 to woods behnd school_ [8:56pm]

It’s fine. It’s all fine. It’s just a joke, right? He races up the dirt trail to the woods. There’s an orange light at the top, so that’s what he heads for. He tries out a multitude of nonsensical explanations as he goes.

This guy just wants to scare Shane for fun. It’s an elaborate stranger danger exercise the police are putting on. It’s someone who was too scared to ask him to dance in front of other people. Shane is part of a live action roleplaying group and it’s just never come up.

Then he hears the soft music. The melodies emanating from his school are very distant now, but there’s something new and closer bouncing between the trees up ahead. He wills his breathing to slow and walks up the worn pathway slower, praying he’s quiet enough. He fights every urge to yell out for Shane.

The trees get more sparse where the hill crests, and that’s where Ryan comes upon the horrifying scene. The light he saw is coming from a small firepit, and near it sits a wireless speaker. About fifteen feet before him stands a broad-shouldered man with his back turned, standing in an odd manner with his arms bent. A quiet camera click is audible over the music, accompanied by quick flash. He doesn’t know Ryan is there. Ryan lets his eyes wander to the right of the figure, the subject of his photos, and he has to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.

It's Shane. He’s slumped over on the ground, back against a tree, with his arms tied behind him. Blood oozes from his forehead. His eyes are closed. Oh God. Ryan wants to throw up. Is he dead? He can’t be dead, there’s no way.

He looks back at the man, the man that’s been texting him, harassing him, and now hurting him. The man crouches down to get a different angle. Ryan can't fathom what he might be planning to do with the photos.

His nausea is overcome suddenly by white-hot rage. This is it. After months of Shane refusing to let him help, he has a chance to fix things. He picks up a rock from by his feet and closes the distance between them, turning the stone in his hand as he walks, feeling its weight and the weight of what he’s going to do with it. He lets out a yell when he brings the rock down on the back of the man’s head.

The man howls back in response, hand flying up to protect the wound. He turns, and Ryan can see his face now, and-

“Mr. Jensen?” he whispers in shock.

Jensen freezes for a moment, recognition in his eyes - then he shouts and lunges at his student. Ryan drops the rock. He works out, he’s strong, but he’s seventeen and Jensen is in his thirties and _big_ and Ryan never really stood a chance. They wrestle on the ground, and if Ryan were in any other headspace he’d be lamenting the ruination of his poor dress clothes. He almost gains the upper hand a few times, kicking and biting, but he’s thwarted easily by strong arms holding him down.

It’s only a matter of moments before Ryan is flat on his back next to the firepit, scrabbling desperately at hands wrapped around his throat. Jensen says no words. He doesn’t even appear human like this, drenched in darkness and firelight, the crowns of the trees above them forming a sick halo around his head. Ryan tries to gasp out a plea to let him go, but Jensen’s knuckles only get whiter and trap all noises in his throat. Black spots dance in his vision and his heart pounds in his chest.

“Ryan?” Shane’s weak voice penetrates the growing fog in Ryan’s head. Shane. Shane was counting on him, he was here to save him, he was-

He was not about to give up. Ryan uses the last of his strength to reach blindly into the firepit. It hurts, it _burns_ , but he wraps his hand around a branch and whips Jensen in the face with it. He screams, a horrid, guttural noise. He lets go of Ryan’s neck and jumps up, swiping at the flames that attached themselves to his face.

Ryan chokes and gags. He props himself up on an elbow, convulsing with the effort of breathing. He crawls towards Shane, who’s awake now, but still visibly out of it.

“Sha-“ Ryan croaks. His throat is on fire, but he has to know if Shane is okay.

“Ryan,” he murmurs in response.

More lights, everywhere. Red. Blue.

 _Police_ , Ryan thinks, brain screaming. Brent must have called them right away.

Jensen groans in pain somewhere to his right. Ryan looks up - he was able to put himself out, streaks of black char riddling his face, but boots stomp in the dirt near them and then multiple people are yelling at him to get down and so his former math teacher just puts his arms up and kneels down, knowing there are few other options.

An officer comes over to them and cuts Shane free. She tells them that they’re safe now and she’s going to take them to the hospital to get looked at. Shane’s hand finds Ryan’s unburned one immediately, and they don’t let go of each other until the doctors force them into separate examination rooms with the promise that it’s just for a few minutes.

 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Shane says when they reunite and he’s able to think. Shane has a very treatable concussion, and Ryan has his burn bandaged and tea to help soothe his throat. They’re both wrapped in blankets while they wait for the detectives to come and question them. “I still don't know how he got my second number. I never wanted him to hurt you, Ryan. H-He said he had your brother. He said he had Jake. I was so scared, Ryan, I just did what he asked.”

It was a lie - Jake was at home the whole night. But the sta- Jensen knew that he was someone Shane cared deeply about, and it hurts Ryan to imagine how horrified his best friend was feeling.

“You didn’t ask me to call him?” Ryan asks, voice still broken. “You didn’t ask me to come?”

“I didn’t want you in danger, too. I thought- I thought I could save him.” Ryan can see the pain in Shane’s eyes. They share thoughts for a moment, thoughts of Shane’s own brother, thoughts of what life feels like with a fractured family.

"How many messages didn't you tell me about?" Ryan can't stop himself from asking.

"Too many to count," Shane replies.

He slips his hand into Ryan’s. Ryan squeezes it and tries not to picture a terrified Shane being hit over the head and tied up. God knows what their teacher could have had planned. It makes him sick to think about.

“I got into USC,” Shane whispers, ever the comfort to Ryan. “I was going to tell you when we were dancing.”

Ryan smiles and hopes it conveys the joy he feels for him. He leans into his best friend, and Shane wraps his arms around him, connecting their blankets.

“I was going to kiss you when we danced.” Ryan whispers in a fit of bravery. This close, he can hear Shane’s heartbeat quicken.

“Shane Madej, come this way, please.”

They detangle themselves so that Shane can go. Ryan grabs his wrist to stop him, then hands his phone over, knowing the texts would aid in telling his story. Shane thanks him and turns to follow the detective. He stops short suddenly, then rushes back and takes Ryan’s face in his hands and then they’re kissing, softer than Ryan could’ve dreamed. It carries the weight of everything that they’d been through together and everything that they will go through. When they part, Shane gently strokes the nape of Ryan’s neck and promises to be right back.

Ryan watches him go and wraps the blankets around himself tighter, despite feeling much warmer already.

Things would be alright, eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> what's up I wrote this in two days. wish I was always this motivated haha
> 
> this came about because I was reminiscing about high school and wanted to write some dramatic shit happening at a prom... mine was dreadfully boring. some kids just got kicked out for being drunk. nobody even had sex in the bathroom or anything. it sucked
> 
> anyways I hope someone enjoys this !! :-) it's also my longest fic so far I think? go me
> 
> my tumblr is greatwonfidence if you want to talk to me on there
> 
> thank u bye xoxo


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